


Between a Potato and a Hard Place

by Heavisi



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Awkwardness, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, M/M, Prom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-06 04:18:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 18,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavisi/pseuds/Heavisi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connie had never been the sharpest bulb in the spoon drawer. Or something like that.<br/>But he was always around for his friends, and that's what was important to him, anyway. He was always around for one friend in particular, and maybe he'd always liked her a little more than just a friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My purpose in life is to drown all of you in fluff

The small wooden blocks were Connie's every focus. Every small bump or movement could easily be the end- he tried desperately to balance gravity and reality. Every turn marked another potential loss. He couldn't. He wouldn't lose, not again...  
Time slowed for Connie as he saw his fingers brush against a lower piece, and watched as the whole structure slowly toppled. With it fell his very spirits, and his eyes widened with defeat.  
"You lose!" Sasha shouted, springing up and thrusting her fist into the air as the blocks fell from the table. Connie groaned into his hands. "I never thought you'd be so bad at Jenga," she said, kneeling to pick up the pieces from her rug.  
Connie pouted, but helped pick up the pieces from the floor anyway. He looked up, clenching a fist. "I can gather the pieces of war, but I can never gather the pieces of my pride..."  
"Oh my God, shut up!" Sasha laughed, reaching for a pillow and threw the tasseled, fluffy weapon at him. "You're such a sore loser."  
"Well, how are you so good, anyway?" He countered after recovering from the attack.  
Sasha grunted as she pulled herself from the floor and placed the last of the blocks on the table. "I don't eat all the time, Jesus." Connie pretended to be seriously surprised, and Sasha hit him with another pillow, laughing. "You're such a dork."  
"So you just sit around and play Jenga by yourself?" Connie asked, following Sasha into the kitchen.  
"Sometimes I invite Jean over," she answered, opening the cabinet. Connie pulled a face, seriously upset by this.  
Sasha glanced at him and broke down laughing, holding her stomach. "Connie, I was just kidding! Gosh, chill out!"  
Connie felt his ears heat up. "Well, how was I supposed to know?" He shouted, self-conscious of being so obviously concerned over who Sasha spent her time with.  
"Oh, are you jealous?" She teased, leaning her face towards him.  
He blinked, looking anywhere but in her eyes. "O-of course not! Just..." he coughed into his fist, straightening up. "Jean's a big idiot, why would you wanna hang around him?"  
Sasha rolled her eyes and returned to pulling a jar of jam from the cabinet. "Jean's pretty cool. I mean, he's nice for the most part."  
Connie sighed. "I guess." He didn't want to insult Jean in case Sasha got mad at him. Even though she was really cute when she was mad. Wait, what?  
"Oh, and speaking of, you‘ll never guess what I heard yesterday." Sasha asked, having successfully reached the jam and was now looking for bread.  
Connie made a sound of interest. Sasha smiled at him as she located the loaf of bread behind the toaster. "Rumor's going around that Jean might ask me to prom sometime soon," she said, opening the bag.  
It took all of Connie's self-control to not burst out in a fit of rage. After standing there silent for a while, he cleared his throat. "Sounds cool, I guess." Lies. "Who'd you hear that from?" He might need to go Eren-hunting.  
Sasha shrugged, popping two slices of bread into the toaster. "It's been circulating around school for a while." It was a wonder how Sasha didn’t notice the obvious discomfort in Connie’s posture, but then again, she was too focused on food, so maybe it wasn’t that much of a wonder.  
Connie visibly tensed. Not only was Jean a big idiot- maybe even a bigger idiot than himself- he was going to ask out his best friend, who he had always considered asking out for prom in their senior year. Now he had to battle with Jean over this and play it off like nothing to Sasha since she disliked it whenever people fought, especially her friends, and especially over her. What gave Jean the right to ask Sasha to prom anyway? He grimaced as a disgusting thought hit him. What if Sasha flirted with him when he wasn't around? What if she actually liked Jean?  
"What's wrong?" He heard Sasha ask. He looked up into questioning brown eyes, and his face got even redder.  
"Nothing. Just, uh..." he quickly groped for an excuse. He suddenly didn't want to be there anymore. "I just remembered I have more homework to do!" He quickly spun around, looking for his jacket. He spotted it on the couch.  
"Well, let's finish it together!" Sasha suggested, following him to the edge of the kitchen. She watched as he shoved his arms in the sleeves.  
"My backpack's at home. Sorry, Sasha, talk later!" He was out of there before Sasha could even react.  
She was left alone in the wake of silence caused by Connie's sudden departure. The spring of toast made her jump, and she wondered aloud. "But you live right next door..."

_____________________________

Connie's first instinct was to call Reiner as soon as he closed his front door. Reiner could give him advice, right? It was better than trying to come up with a strategy alone- Connie sucked at planning and would probably screw even the best plan he came up with all to hell. So he called Reiner.  
His friend’s deep voice answered the phone. "What's up this time, Connie?"  
"Okay, mayday, man. Officially." Connie grabbed an orange from the bowl on the table as he headed for his room.  
"God, what did you do." He sounded exasperated. Then again, he had every right to be- Connie called him with dumb stuff to talk about all the time. He had begun referring to him as his little brother to his co-workers.  
"Hey, shut up! It's not what I did, it's what horse face did."  
"Oh. What did Jean do?"  
Connie shut his bedroom door and sat down on his bed before answering. "It's more like what he's going to do."  
"This is about that rumor, isn't it?"  
"You know about it, too?!" Connie wailed in dismay.  
"...I think I know where this is going."  
"What do I do?" He cried. "I don't want Sasha going with that loser!"  
"I thought you liked Jean?"  
"Well, yeah, but..."  
"'The boyfriend of my crush is my enemy', right?"  
"Just tell me what to do," he begged. He held the phone between his shoulder and cheek as he pried open his orange.  
"The only advice I can give you is super obvious. You just have to tell her."  
"You say that like it's not a big deal!"  
"But it's not."  
"When's the last time you confessed to someone?"  
"That‘s not-"  
"Yeah, I thought so!" He popped a slice of orange into his mouth in annoyance.  
Reiner sighed. "Look, Connie. That's my advice. I gotta go, my break's almost over."  
"Alright, catch you later." The dial tone on the other end left Connie feeling strangely alone.  
He let his phone fall to the floor and fell back on his bed, still eating his orange. He started talking aloud, since that always seemed to help whenever he had a problem before. "Is confessing to a girl that hard? I mean, Sasha's been hanging around me long enough to get to know me, right?" He popped another piece into his mouth. "It wouldn't be weird if I asked her to prom. And maybe after that, we'd finally date..." He kicked wildly into the air. "But that's only if she likes me as more than a friend and by now if she hasn't said anything...!"  
Connie got an idea, which was rare. If Reiner couldn't help, then maybe Armin could. Armin was smart. He read books and stuff. Of course, Connie and Armin didn't know each other too well, but Connie was desperate for advice. It didn't take him long to locate his phone underneath the mountains of clothing piled around his room and search through his contacts to find Armin's number.  
"Hello?"  
"Hey, Armin! It's Connie."  
"Connie?"  
"Yeah, look, I know this is weird, but I need help in the worst way right now..."  
"Do you wanna come over?"  
Was he serious? They hadn't seen each other since middle school, was Armin really this eager to help anyone that asked? "Um, yeah. If it's okay with you. Are you alone?"  
"Yeah, Eren had some stuff to take care of, so I'm just here. I'll give you the address."  
After he hastened to find a pen and scribble down what Armin said, he thanked him and hung up. He looked at the address. Armin lived relatively close, but not close enough to walk. He'd have to drive there.  
Connie raised himself from the bed and stretched. Sighing, he shoved his cell-phone back into his pocket and opened his door, leaving the remains of the orange on his bed. He'd clean them up later. If he remembered.  
He grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter and plucked his jacket from the coat rack. Shoving his arms through the sleeves, he opened the front door. He shifted through his key ring until he found the one to his house, then locked up and started walking towards his old blue pick-up truck.  
Maybe it was because this truck was so big that he liked it. Connie was always trying to compensate for his height. And blue was his favorite color. He smiled as he unlocked the rusty door, then froze when he heard a voice.  
"Hey, Connie, what's going on?" He looked up at Sasha, who was kneeling in her garden next door. Crap, he forgot about her.  
"Um, running some errands!" He called back, quickening his pace in opening the door. He dropped the keys, and he cursed as he bent down to retrieve them.  
Sasha laughed and started walking his way. "I thought you were doing homework?"  
Connie started to sweat despite the chill air, and he fumbled with the keys. "T-that's right! I'm...I forgot something at a friend's house." Wrong way. He pulled the key out and tried again.  
"Oh. Well," Sasha said, leaning on her picket fence. "Don't stay out too late."  
Where did she think he was going? It didn't matter right then- the key clicked and the door unlocked. "Yeah, alright. Bye, Sasha!"  
He yanked open the truck door and dove inside, slamming it shut behind him. He crammed the key into ignition and barely bothered to check behind him as he pulled out as quickly as possible. She waved confusedly after him, and Connie lifted a hand in response as he sped away to Armin's house.


	2. Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> armin is basically the best help ever

When Connie arrived at Armin's place, he was struck with a sudden feeling of homeliness he never got from his own home. Armin's house was quaint compared to the other houses, which were worn-down and neglected.  
Connie exited his truck, closing the door softly, like slamming it would awake ghosts that may or may not be lurking in the other houses. He placed his keys in his pocket as he neared the front stoop of the house.  
He took a quick look around the neighborhood before ringing the doorbell. He heard a nice jingle echo throughout the house followed by quick footsteps.  
The door creaked open, and from behind it popped Armin's face. He had grown since he had known him in middle school- his face had gotten less round and he was taller than Connie, maybe by about 4 inches. Armin welcomed Connie in with a soft voice, and Connie nodded his appreciation.  
"We can go to my room," Armin suggested, gesturing into the hall. Connie nodded again, and Armin led the way.  
Books were everywhere. On the floor, on the desk, on the bed- everywhere. Connie knew Armin read a lot, but not this much. "Sorry for the mess," Armin said, moving aside to let him in.  
Connie laughed and entered, removing his jacket. "You haven't seen a mess until you've seen my room."  
Armin laughed with him, closing the door. It was an awkward laugh- which made sense, because as soon as he closed the door, things got very awkward very fast. Armin cleared his throat, attempting to break the silence. "Do you want something to drink or anything like that?"  
Connie just stood dumbfounded at Armin's overly welcoming nature. Eventually he realized that he probably needed to reply soon, so he shook his head kindly. "I just need a little advice, Armin.“  
Armin looked relieved. "That's good, because I actually don't have anything to drink besides Sunny-D. Grandpa went shopping just now." Connie shivered at the mention of the drink brand but nodded in understanding anyway. "So what did you need help with? Is it schoolwork?" Armin motioned for Connie to sit down, so Connie slowly seated himself on Armin's bed, and Armin took the desk chair.  
"I wish," answered Connie, folding his jacket across his lap. Armin smiled knowingly. "It's got to be girls.” Then he got a worried look. “Unless it’s not.”  
Connie waved his wands wildly. “I-I’m not in trouble or anything like that!“  
Armin breathed a breath of relief and nodded. “So, girls?”  
He sighed buried his head in his hands. "It's always girls."  
"Well, try telling me what's exactly wrong, Connie."  
He sat up and cleared his throat. "Well, you know Sasha, right?"  
"Potato girl?"  
Connie rolled his eyes. "That was one time." He looked back at Armin with a faint blush creeping up on his face. "Well, uh. I've really liked her for a long time, but..."  
"This isn't about that rumor going around, is it?" Connie grimaced, nodding feverishly. Armin laughed. "Connie, you can't believe everything you hear around campus."  
"Well, what if it's true?"  
"Have you talked to Sasha about it?"  
"...Not really…"  
"What about Jean?"  
"...Um…"  
Armin rolled his eyes. "You can't just sit around waiting for your problems to disappear, you know.”  
"But, Armin! It‘s a lot harder than you think, asking a girl out.."  
Armin seemed taken aback. “What makes you think I haven’t asked a girl out?” Connie’s eyes widened and he looked at him with a new perspective, until Armin laughed and waved his hand. “Kidding. You got me.”   
Connie groaned and pulled a face, making the other boy laugh. “Get serious!”  
“Alright, alright.“ Armin sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. "People who can't give something up can never hope to change anything." He opened an eye to look at Connie. "In this case, throw away your pride and just try to talk Jean out of asking Sasha to prom. If he really is going to, and the grape vine at school isn't harboring any sour grapes like I suspect."  
He sat, once again, dumbfounded. "You're really smart, Armin."  
Armin just shrugged, standing. "I’m not sure why you came to me- I’m no love expert.“ He smiled and chuckled a little. “Was that all?"  
Connie stuttered for a response, picking up his jacket and following Armin out of the room. "Y-yeah, actually. That really helped. But what do I say to Jean, exactly?"  
Armin waved a hand over his shoulder, like the question was silly. "Isn't that up to you?"  
Connie laughed nervously. "I guess you're right."  
He led Connie to the door and turned around. "It was nice seeing you again, Connie."  
"Yeah, you too! Thanks for everything- we should hang out more often." Armin agreed, then Connie added, "Sorry for calling out of the blue."  
Armin shook his head, smiling and opening the door. "I'm happy to help- this was fun." This time it was Connie's turn to agree. He stepped out onto the stoop as Armin continued. "Have a safe ride home, Connie. And good luck with Sasha."  
Connie blushed and waved good-bye as Armin shut the door. "Armin really is smart," he muttered to himself as he pulled his keys from his pocket. "I wonder if I can ever be like that." He unlocked his truck door and jumped in, laughing at his own stupidity. "Nah."  
Connie shut the door a little too loudly, and he immediately looked around at the other houses to see if he had disturbed any ghosts or ghouls. He sighed in relief when he realized that he had not, in fact, awakened an army of the dead, and drove away.

_____________________________

The visit to Armin's house got Connie thinking on the way home. About everything.  
He'd see Jean tomorrow during the lunch period. Connie groaned, because what would he even say to him? Nobody knew he liked Sasha, right? He didn't want to risk blowing the cover he had. He'd need to be subtle about it, but Connie knew that he wasn't the best smooth talker...  
He pulled into his driveway just as the air got chilly. Connie looked up at the dimming sky- it was almost dinner time. Was he gone that long? He couldn't remember what time it was when he left, but he supposed it was after lunch.  
Connie jumped out and slammed his truck door, managing to get his jacket caught in it, too. It took him a while to wrestle the fabric from the grasp of the truck door, and when he did it popped out so suddenly he practically flew across the yard because he was yanking on the jacket so heavily. He cursed as he picked himself up and headed towards the front door.  
He lived in this small house with his roommate, Ymir. She was kind of mean to him and they often fought, but he understood that she was practically the moodiest artist you'd ever meet, so he gave her some space. She was also making steady income since she was actually pretty good at what she did, and with Connie's income from his part-time job down at Rakago café, they could afford rent together. Of course, Connie was usually always being scolded at work by his manager, and he didn't know how many more dishes he could break before he was fired. But he'd milk it.  
The driveway occupied two vehicles when he left for Armin's, but now it only harbored his old blue truck. He figured Ymir had left while he was out, probably to go visit her girlfriend. She usually wasn't home until the next day when that happened, so he didn't worry about her for the time being.  
When he finally opened the door and flicked on the lights, it hit him how tired he was. Tomorrow was Monday. And that meant classes, which meant having to get up early. "Gross," Connie muttered as he slipped off his shoes and traipsed to his room to mull his situation over.  
He didn't get much mulling done, because as soon as his head touched the pillow, he fell asleep.

_____________________________

Connie started the morning by being awoken by a shrill alarm, and then he fell out of bed because he had somehow tangled the sheets around his legs like a cocoon of sorts, and couldn't yank them out fast enough to support him properly.  
After slamming face-first into the wooden floor of his room, he bolted up and dizzily flung his hand around in the direction of his desk, hoping to silence the alarm. He instead slammed his hand into the bed post, then, after cursing loudly, located the horrendous alarm and shut it off. Connie proceeded to notice the time, and that, once again, he'd probably be late. The rest of his morning was a blur of clothes, toothpaste and books, then he high-tailed it out of there with fifteen minutes to get to class.  
He didn't see Sasha's car in her driveway as he drove away from his own. But he forgot about that for a moment as he was finally able to think clearly for the first time that morning, and a thought made itself very clear in his mind- "You need to talk to Jean before Friday." He drove to school nervous and fidgety.


	3. Struggle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I very strongly resisted the urge to include riren.  
> (That's not the reason for the title chapter but it could be ehe)  
> *WHISPERS JEAN'S HEAD IS THE HARD PLACE*

The day went by slowly, and Connie found himself daydreaming, like usual. He barely noticed when the lunch bell rang, and then everything came rushing to him in a wave of nervous fear and potential life-ending embarrassment. Connie grumbled something about stress and heaved his backpack onto his back, walking to the cafeteria.  
On the way, he didn't see any sign of Sasha. He supposed that was for the better, though, because if he had to talk to Jean with Sasha there, he wasn't sure what he'd do. Probably feign a heart attack. Although in that situation, he might not have to fake it.  
He was pulled from his thoughts as he saw a familiar head of blonde hair. "Armin," Connie called, and his friend turned around and waved. Connie jogged over.  
"Did you talk to Sa-" Armin was cut off by Connie's hand, which had firmly planted itself over his mouth.  
Connie, shushing him, looked around. "I don't want anyone to know!" He hunched over, and Armin rolled his eyes, pushing Connie's hand away.  
"Connie, everyone knows about you and Sasha." He coughed awkwardly into his fist. “Your obvious crush on her isn’t exactly discreet. The farthest from it, actually…”  
Connie gasped and went wide-eyed at Armin. "Really?" He squeaked. Armin laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head. Connie leaned in close, whispering. "Do you think Sasha knows?"  
Armin shrugged. "Probably not. But hey," He gestured to something behind Connie, and he turned to see. "There's your guy."  
Jean had always been one of Connie's friends, but they hadn't talked recently. He was sitting next to a boy with dark hair and freckles who he hadn't seen before. Connie threw a wary glance back at Armin. "Come on, now. He won't bite." Armin gently pushed Connie in Jean's direction.  
"I don't know if-" Connie turned around to express his doubts, but Armin had disappeared. Sighing, he decided to swallow his fear and get it over with.

_____________________________

"Jean," Connie called friendly, and the boy with the weird hair looked up and smirked at him.  
"What's up, baldy?" The boy with the freckles scowled at the nickname and elbowed Jean in the side, making him laugh.  
"Nothing much." He said to Jean, then turned to the other boy. "I'm Connie, by the way."  
"Nice to meet you, I'm Marco." He outstretched his hand towards Connie, and they shook.  
Connie sat down across from them. "So, uh. What's going on with you, Jean?"  
Jean ran a hand through his hair. "Studying, mostly. I guess." He threw a look Connie wasn't able to decipher at Marco, and Marco scowled back at him.  
"Any plans for prom?" There, it was out there. No more beating around the bush.  
The question made Jean freeze up, and he looked away, at the cement floor of the patio. Marco gave Jean a weird look of his own and turned to Connie. "I think he's still undecided." The thought made Connie brighten a little bit, until Marco spoke again two seconds later. "Who are you asking to prom?"  
It was Connie's turn to freeze up. "W-well, that's...um..."  
Jean took the opportunity. "Oh, what? Couldn't find a date?"  
"Hey, shut up! I bet you didn't find one either."  
"Well, actually-"  
"Mikasa doesn't count."  
"What makes you think I‘d ask her, baldy?" Jean’s face turned a shade of pink.  
Connie faltered, not sure himself. "Because you're an idiot." That was Connie’s go-to response for anything whenever he couldn’t think of a come-back fast enough.  
"What's that got to do with anything?"  
"It's got to do with everything!" He looked to Marco for support. "Doesn't it?"  
But Marco wasn't like Sasha. He wasn’t going to take anybody’s side, much less Connie’s. Instead, he laughed nervously and brought his hands up in defense. "Hey, let’s just-”  
“None of that even matters! I’ve already…” Jean cleared his throat and looked away, speaking quieter. “I’ve got my eye on someone.”  
“No way! Who?” Connie was on the edge of his seat. Who, exactly, did Jean “have his eye on”?  
Suddenly, Connie heard a voice calling him, and was momentarily distracted. Marco took this time to feign interest somewhere else, and dragged Jean with him. To him, it looked like Jean and Connie might fight, and he certainly didn’t want that happening.  
But Connie couldn't really care at the moment, because Sasha was walking towards him with a plate full of food. He waved, then laughed when he realized Sasha's hands were full. She titled her head to the side sheepishly.  
"Was that Jean?" She asked when she set down her plate between them, taking Jean's previous seat.  
"Yeah," Connie answered, raising his eyebrows as he reached for a small bag of curly fries. Sasha nodded at him, and he took it.  
"What was he doing over here?" She asked as she stuffed a piece of bread into her mouth. She knew Connie didn't mind.  
"Oh, uh..." He ate another fry, buying himself time to think. "I haven't seen him in a while. Just checking up."  
Sasha nodded, taking a bite of cheeseburger. "That's cool."  
The rest of what they talked about was simply nonchalant chit-chat, and Connie threw in a few jokes here and there. He liked Sasha's laugh.  
Pretty soon the bell rang for the lunch period to be over, but by then the plate had been cleared of food for a long time. Sasha dropped the tray off into a nearby garbage can before bidding goodbye to Connie. He watched her retreating back inside the main building as he continued to the science building.  
He was content. Until seventh period.

_____________________________

By the time the last period of the day rolled around, Connie was so tired, he almost fell asleep several times at his desk. This period was debate class, his least favorite. Why had he even signed up for this class? He sucked at critical thinking and would just rather punch stuff. But he had this class with Eren and Jean, who always seemed to be on different sides of the debate. Not like they ever got anywhere, though, because most of the time the debate would end with either Eren calling Jean a douche bag or Jean calling Eren a psychopathic prick, and then Mr. Rivaille would call both of them spoiled brats and proceed to think up some sort of punishment for them. For example, when one of the debates on Western expansion got out of hand, Mr. Rivaille made Jean and Eren hold hands until class was over, or they were suspended.  
Connie thoroughly enjoyed class that day.  
But so far, everything was just as boring as ever. Mr. Rivaille still stood on that step-stool of his so he could see behind the podium (he was only a few centimeters taller than Connie himself), Annie still looked bored out of her mind, and Bertholdt was still sweating like crazy. Connie figured he could afford to lose himself in thought, since that's what everyone else seemed to be doing.  
He thought about Sasha, as he found himself doing a lot recently. He liked that she could stuff her face and still look pretty. He liked that she could be smart when she wanted, but most of the time was goofy like himself. He liked Sasha.  
"Mr. Springer," he heard a cold voice snap at him. Connie's eyes popped open, and he shot back against his chair so fast, it squeaked loudly under the sudden pressure.  
"Yes, sir!" Connie yelled in his confusion. Had he fallen asleep? He looked around- nobody was there. Had the bell rang already? "In the future," he heard the voice growl again, and Connie whipped around to see Mr. Rivaille at his podium, gently slapping his palm with a ruler. "Please refrain from polluting the room with your ignorance by dozing off in the middle of a debate on sleep deprivation in high school students, of all things."  
Connie's face flushed. "Yes, of course, sir! I apologize!" He jumped up, grabbing his bag.  
"Good for you, now leave."  
Connie didn't need to be asked twice. He was out of there before anyone could say "hot potato".

It was only when he was halfway to the parking lot that he realized he hadn't gotten a solid answer from Jean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY THIS CHAPTER WAS SO SHORT, I WILL MAKE THE NEXT ONE LONGER


	4. Tenuous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I lied when I said this chapter would be longer than the last I'm sorry  
> the title pretty much describes this chapter *cries

Connie felt like screaming. How could he let Jean slip away? He angrily kicked a potted plant on his porch, then spent a few minutes cursing under his breath because the pot was heavier than he thought.  
He was interrupted by the door, which suddenly swung open. "What the fuck are you doing?"  
The voice was indifferent yet annoyed at the same time, and Connie knew who it was without needing to look up. "O-oh, Ymir. Um. Nothing."  
"Whatever. Quit making so much noise, I'm trying to work."  
"Sorry," Connie answered, ducking inside underneath Ymir's arm. She grunted in response and shut the door.  
He saw a box of granola bars on the counter and immediately took one- all he had for lunch was curly fries, after all. He continued down the hall to his room and shut the door, pressing his back against the it and sinking down until his knees were against his chest. "Shit," he said, ripping open the granola and biting into it. He was tired, despite apparently falling asleep seventh period. His jacket pocket buzzed. Connie jumped a little, but shoved his hand in and took out his cell-phone. One new message from Sasha. He smiled and opened it. 

￼[](http://s1040.photobucket.com/user/TreeKangaroo411/media/SASHA1.jpg.html)

He rested the granola on his knee, brushed off his hand, and texted back.  
￼  
[](http://s1040.photobucket.com/user/TreeKangaroo411/media/SASHA2.jpg.html)

Connie munched down the rest of the granola and stood up, stretching. Then he thought of something. He opened a chat with Jean and typed a quick text. 

[ ](http://s1040.photobucket.com/user/TreeKangaroo411/media/JEAN1.jpg.html)

He probably wasn't going to reply any time soon, but he might as well try to reach him. The curiosity could kill him. Or Jean, if it turned out that way.  
He placed his cell on the desk and pulled off his jacket. He heard a faint buzz on his desk but focused on unbuttoning his pants. He needed to get dressed for work- he did have to leave soon. When he stripped down to his boxers, he went looking for his uniform. It was draped over his desk chair, so he checked his cell when he picked it up.

[](http://s1040.photobucket.com/user/TreeKangaroo411/media/SASHA3.jpg.html) [](http://s1040.photobucket.com/user/TreeKangaroo411/media/SASHA4.jpg.html)

Right when he pressed send, it buzzed in his hand. One new message from Jean. 

￼[](http://s1040.photobucket.com/user/TreeKangaroo411/media/JEAN2.jpg.html)

[](http://s1040.photobucket.com/user/TreeKangaroo411/media/JEAN3.jpg.html)

Connie scoffed as he put down his phone. What a douche, he just asked a question. He continued to get dressed, putting on his white button-up. He got another text from Sasha by the time he had his pants on. 

￼[](http://s1040.photobucket.com/user/TreeKangaroo411/media/SASHA5.jpg.html)

[ ](http://s1040.photobucket.com/user/TreeKangaroo411/media/SASHA6.jpg.html)

He got an immediate response. 

￼[](http://s1040.photobucket.com/user/TreeKangaroo411/media/SASHA7.jpg.html)

She was cute when she texted, too. He set down his phone again and searched for his boots. He eventually found them and shoved them on, then grabbed his keys from his desk. His phone vibrated as he was getting his jacket, so he reached over and checked it. One message from Jean. 

￼[](http://s1040.photobucket.com/user/TreeKangaroo411/media/JEAN4.jpg.html)

Connie stared at the words a bit longer, then growled. 

￼[](http://s1040.photobucket.com/user/TreeKangaroo411/media/JEAN5.jpg.html)

He angrily hit send and flicked off his cell, shoving it into his back pocket. Who did Jean think he was? If his crush on Sasha was that obvious, then why didn't he take a hint and back off? "Fuck him," Connie said to himself, flinging open his door. He stomped into the living room, where Ymir sat at her easel. "I'm going to work," he spat, then turned quickly and yanked open the door. He didn't hear her response because he was already out on the porch, headed for his truck.

_____________________________

Connie thought about a lot of things on the way to work. Mainly Sasha, of course, but a lot of other things, too. Like Jean, for example. He wasn't exactly a bad guy, he was just way too honest and sometimes a little snarky. He was funny, though, even if he didn't make friends that easily. Connie's thoughts drifted around Marco a little, trying to figure out why he hadn't seen him at school before. He was probably a transfer student. He thought it was a little strange that Marco would make friends with Jean, of all people, when he seemed like a good enough person that he could be friends with literally anyone else. Then again, maybe it was because Marco was a good person that he made friends with Jean. A pity relationship, maybe? Marco had probably been at school a while, and Connie failed to notice because, after all, he was not the most observant person in the world. Connie thought about Sasha again for the millionth time that day after that. When was Jean going to ask her? By “certain brunette” he had to have meant Sasha. Connie would just have to ask her before Jean did, but since Connie didn't know what the fuck was going on half of the time, that proved to be difficult in itself, besides the problem of how exactly to go about asking Sasha out in the first place. Then there was always the possibility that Sasha would say "As friends, right?" when he asked her, simply because if they were going to prom, it didn't mean they were automatically a couple. Connie wasn't even sure Sasha liked him romantically, which was a lot of the reason why he neglected asking her to prom earlier. In any case, he decided, if he was going to ask Sasha to prom, he definitely needed to do so before at least Thursday, since that was the day they stopped selling tickets. And it would suck if Sasha said yes, and they were out of tickets. If Connie was smart, he’d probably get tickets now instead of waiting, but he wasn't’. His lack of confidence didn’t help with that issue in the slightest.  
Sighing, he turned up the radio to some pop song as he tried desperately to dismiss the depressing thoughts currently clouding his ability to pay attention to the road.  
He did that unsuccessfully until he pulled into the café parking lot.


	5. Hidden Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT AND MORE FLUFF.  
> when will the dilemma with prom actually be solved. It is a mystery

Sasha and Connie had been friends since they were ten. They did everything together, even if a lot of their classmates thought it was weird for a boy and a girl to be best friends. Connie didn't pay them any mind, since he didn't have a clue what "social standards" were until he was fourteen, and even then he couldn't care less.  
That was when his mother had died. It was spring when he got the news. Connie remembered having seen funerals multiple times on television, but they were nothing like the one he attended for his mother. There weren't any dark clouds, and there certainly wasn't any rain. It was bright and peaceful outside, the perfect weather for anything other than a funeral. Peacefully warm, but it wasn't hot. A nice breeze had rustled the leaves as the sound of an organ filled the air, and he remembered Sasha's warmth next to him as he stared into the hole his mother's coffin was being slowly lowered into. His vision blurred, and he remembered blindly throwing dirt in over the coffin once it was lowered. The funeral was over.  
After that, Connie stayed with his grandparents. It was only for the first few years of high school, though. When he turned 16 he applied for a job at Rakago Café. He'd be working there for two years come October.  
His life had treated him generally well despite that, and Sasha and he were still close. But, Connie thought, not as close as he wanted to be. Ever since sophomore year, Connie started to develop feelings for Sasha. Of course, being Connie, he caught on slowly, but by the time he noticed, it was too late. He'd fallen in love with his childhood friend.

_____________________________

 

The next morning, Connie woke up early. Tuesday. He'd woken up countless times the night before. Maybe it was his thoughts of Sasha, or maybe it was the remembrance that he had homework to do in the morning. Either way, Connie got out of bed and fumbled for his phone to check the time. Six.  
He sighed and rubbed his eyes, deciding he might as well knock out his homework since there wasn't any way he could get to sleep now. He would've tripped if he hadn't of caught himself on his desk chair, since, once again, he had rendered his legs useless in a crazy trap of blankets and sheets.  
After disentangling himself, he spent the next ten minutes getting ready for school, which was in an hour, more or less. He only noticed his phone was buzzing when he came from the bathroom. Someone was calling him.  
"Hello?" He answered when he picked it up, not bothering to check the caller ID.  
"Hey, it's me," Sasha said, and Connie smiled.  
"I'm just getting ready to finish up some homework," he said, hanging the towel back up in the bathroom. "What're you doing up?"  
"Practicing karate."  
"What?"  
She laughed on the other line. "Kidding! I'm actually watching some old Chinese combat movie. I couldn't sleep."  
"Oh. Well, when I finish my homework, want me to come over?"  
"Yeah, that'd be cool. I can get out my notes to help you if you need it."  
Sasha's dad liked Connie. Their families went way back, and neither family cared much if Connie visited Sasha at random hours of the day or vice versa.  
"I think I got it. Be there in a few."  
"Alright." She adopted a horrible Chinese accent. "I will be waiting, grasshopper."  
He laughed and said goodbye, then hung up. He found it terribly hard to focus on homework after that, and ultimately gave up on trying to solve the impossible equation before him. Instead, he finished getting dressed and walked over to Sasha's house, calling it quits on calculus.  
He knocked on the door, and Sasha answered straight away. "Come on, come on, the samurai's getting his butt whooped." She was wearing red plaid pajamas, and her hair was in a messy side ponytail.  
Connie laughed and entered. "Your room?" He asked, and she nodded. He didn't need to be told where it was, he'd been there plenty of times before this, and it didn't make him nervous at all.  
It always smelled like bacon in Sasha's room. Maybe she had a secret stash somewhere. The sounds of weird Chinese outbursts and cheesy sound effects quietly emanated from the old television set by the bed. Connie sat down on the round purple rug in the middle of the room, scooting over to make room for Sasha.  
"I made popcorn," she said, taking a bowl from the table next to the door, which she shut softly with her foot.  
"Oh, do that thing where you catch it with your tongue."  
"Oh my gosh, okay. Here, hold the remote."  
He did so gladly. He was so envious that Sasha could catch all kinds of food with her mouth and he couldn't even catch one grape. He loved to watch her do it. "Ready?" She asked, and he nodded.  
The piece of popcorn was chucked into the air, and she bobbed her head up a little to catch it as it came down. The crunch made Connie laugh. "How do you even do that?"  
"Same way I beat you at Jenga."  
"What, so now you're catching food with your mouth while you play Jenga alone?"  
"Hey, shut up, Jenga's the shit."  
He grinned at her response and turned his attention to the television. "What's this even called?"  
"Um..." She furrowed her brow as she tried to remember, sitting down next to Connie. "'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon', or something like that, I think?"  
Connie shrugged and grabbed a handful of popcorn as the samurai dressed in red kicked the staff out of the other one's hand. "That doesn't look so hard." He commented, crunching.  
"Well, wanna try it?" Sasha asked, giving him a devilish grin as she held her fists up at him.  
Connie laughed and wiped his buttery fingers on his jeans.  
"Sure, sensei." He mimicked the red samurai's accent. Poorly. "Teach me the ways of the Hidden Tiger!"  
"It's Hidden Dragon, Connie!" She giggled, punching him lightly in the arm.  
"Alright, well..." he tried to think of a comeback, but found himself staring at the way her nose crinkled when she laughed, and how her hair always looked so pretty, even if it was a little frizzy at the moment. He gazed at the clock and gasped. "You should probably get ready." How had it been half an hour already?  
She turned to look at the clock and jumped up. "Ah, you're right!" She dashed to the closet, disappearing behind the doors.  
He blushed when he realized she was undressing. Her nightshirt was thrown from the closet, followed by her fuzzy pants. He really shouldn't have been embarrassed- they dressed in front of each other when they were little all the time. Of course, now that they were older, things were a little...  
"Connie, you should go to school without me, I'm probably going to be late."  
"Oh, that's fine! I'll get my backpack and drive you." It wasn't unusual for him to offer her a ride- they lived right next to each other, after all.  
"Really?" Sasha asked, already knowing the answer.  
"Of course, duh!" He then realized if he wanted to drive her, he'd better get moving. He stood from the floor and headed for her bedroom door.  
"Thanks! I'll be ready in, like, two minutes."  
He nodded and walked next door, grabbing his book bag from his room. He started up his truck and parked it in her driveway, letting the truck heat up. It was unusually chilly this morning, and he figured winter was coming a little too early for his taste.  
Sasha ran out a few minutes later, tying her hair up into the ponytail she usually wore. Somehow the frizz was gone. She jumped into his truck, slamming the door and buckling up. She smiled at him. "I'm ready!“  
Alright, here we go," he said, and pulled out of her driveway, heading for school.


	6. Uncovered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connie finally finds out who Jean is taking to prom (much gay in this chapter) anD MORE SPRINGLES.

The drive to school that morning consisted of:  
1 argument over which samurai probably won the fight  
2 reassurances from Connie that Sasha's hair looked fine  
1 question on whether or not Jean asked Sasha to prom yet (which Sasha denied)  
1 question about Connie's homework (which he still didn't have done)  
And 1 reminder that Sasha had to work after school, and that she'd catch a ride home with a friend.  
When they finally got to school, Connie opened Sasha's door even though she insisted she was a "big girl" and could open doors without anyone's help, and Connie replied that he was "being a gentleman", which she should appreciate since he rarely was. She laughed as they went their separate ways, and Connie found himself wishing they had more classes together. He pushed it from his mind as he focused on getting to calculus on time (spoiler: he was barely on time).  
After his plan to sneak into calculus and creep to his desk unnoticed was foiled, he proceeded to receive yet another lecture from the teacher, Mr. Gin, which all the girls swooned over. Connie supposed it was his Scottish accent, but he didn't really care either way, because he needed to ask about the homework. He did succeed in doing so, but not without another lecture about paying attention in class. Connie eventually did get the information he needed, and the class went by without further interruption (well, besides when Ymir mouthed off for the billionth time that year, but that was more of a daily occurrence than an actual problem).  
Connie was thinking about lunch pretty much all day. He had decided that today he really would get a straight answer from Jean, and he didn't care if Jean was still mad at him for calling him a horse face, either. He deserved it for calling him "baldy" all the time, anyway.  
He was listening to his biology teacher, Ms. Zoë, when the bell for lunch rang at last, freeing him of the insane and utter complexity of the inner workings of plant life, which she seemed more than adamant to explain.  
Connie didn't see Sasha anywhere in the crowd of students that day, which, again, benefited him greatly. He took to looking for Jean. It didn't take long to spy that ridiculous hair cut of his. He was sitting alone at the table he was yesterday, and Connie briefly wondered where Marco was before sitting himself directly in front of Jean.  
Jean's nose wrinkled. "Look what the-"  
"Dude, save it," Connie interrupted what he was sure would've been a horrible pun, then cut right to the chase. He figured part of the reason Jean had been dodging around the question was that Connie didn't make the question clear enough. So he did. "Are you taking Sasha to prom or not?"  
Jean stuttered for a minute, going on the defense. "When did I ever say that?"  
"Um, it was a rumor. Just answer the question." He was annoyed with himself and with Jean. With himself for putting this off for as long as he could, and with Jean for letting him, when he had obviously wanted an answer.  
"Well, I..." He couldn't really believe what happened next. Jean actually...blushed. "I thought about it, but then..."  
When he realized Jean was slipping, Connie snapped his fingers. "Then what?" He was tired of playing games, and he just wanted the answer. He was quick-tempered when it came down to it.  
Jean lowered his voice. "Then I met someone else, alright?"  
Connie's eyes went wide with curiosity. "Who?" Came the inevitable question.  
Jean took a deep breath of exasperation, whisper-yelling. "Marco, alright?! Are you happy?"  
Connie just kind of sat there in dumb silence. It was good news that he wasn't taking Sasha, but what kind of news was this? He had a lot of questions, to say the least, since Jean had been chasing after Mikasa since junior high.  
"Wait, so...the 'certain brunette'...?"  
"Is Marco, yes. Fuck, man, I'm surprised you didn't catch on." He wasn't blushing anymore, and his mouth wore a smirk. It was so like Jean to make an argument over something he was embarrassed to admit not five seconds ago.  
"Well, how long?" Connie retorted.  
Jean recoiled, rubbing the back of his neck. "A while, I guess..."  
"Didn't he just move here?"  
"He's my neighbor- he moved here two weeks ago, or close to that. Did you seriously not notice he was here?“  
Connie was an idiot after all. Then it hit him what a complete coincidence it was that the boy Jean liked was his neighbor. He told him so instead of admitting he failed to realize any new faces in his classes, and Jean agreed.  
"I swear to God, if you blab to anyone-"  
"Christ, man, do I look like I wanna get my face punched in?" Jean smirked again before Connie added, "I meant by Marco." Then he scowled.  
"Whatever. Why is it so important anyway?"  
Connie tensed. "Why do you think?"  
"I asked you first."  
“Well, maybe I just wanted to-"  
"Oh, please don't tell me you guys are fighting again..." A gentle voice cut Connie off, and at first he was upset, because he had a good burn in mind, then was relieved when he saw Marco setting his tray next to Jean. At least this way, he could escape without revealing too much about his feelings for Sasha.  
"Hey, Marco," Jean stuttered, which he seemed to be doing quite a bit of lately, scooting over to make room on the seat. After he regained his composure and got that awful blush off of his face (which took less than two seconds, seeing as how Marco would definitely ask about it), he looked over at Connie, smirking. "Baldy here was just telling me why he wants to know who I'm taking to prom."  
"Who are you taking, anyway?" Asked Marco, and Jean visibly flinched. "The last day for selling tickets is tomorrow."  
Connie saw this as a chance to get lunch before the line closed up, and, as much as he liked to see Jean squirm under pressure, took it. "I'm gonna shove off," said Connie, and Marco nodded politely at him, not taking his eyes off of Jean. Connie turned away before things could get any more awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFF HANGER OMFG CHAPTER 7 COMES REALLY SOON


	7. Preconceived

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more "Mr. Rivaille" in this chapter hhhh sorry if he's out of characterrr

All Connie had to do now was ask Sasha to prom. Unsurprisingly, the feat turned out to be more difficult than previously thought.  
His first obstacle was the fact that Sasha was working tonight, and he wouldn't be able to ask her until Thursday, which was tomorrow. She worked at Dauper's, a small bakery down the street from Rakago Café.  
He sighed heavily as he watched Eren and Jean "debate" their heads off at each other, hearing but not. His mind was on other things, as usual, and the drone of voices served as background noise for the thoughts he deemed more worthy of his attention.  
He couldn't think of a person who better understood him- or a person he understood better- than Sasha. She never talked to him formally like she did to anyone else, and he liked her country accent. And she wasn't like anyone else he'd ever met, either. Sasha was on Connie's wavelength, and that's all there was to it.  
Connie was briefly interrupted by Mr. Rivaille's harsh voice telling Jean to let go of Eren, but quickly dove back into his thoughts.  
So Jean was gay. It honestly was a surprise for Connie. Jean had been chasing girls when Connie met him, and he'd probably been doing the same in pre-k, for all Connie knew. It certainly looked that way, but if Connie learned anything that day, it was that looks could be deceiving.  
Connie was yanked into reality once more by Mr. Rivaille, but this time, the annoyed voice was directed at him. "What's your take on the situation, Mr. Springer?"  
Connie blinked, looking around. The room had somehow separated itself into two sides. He quickly figured out that yes, they were having an actual debate in debate class for once, and yes, he was being asked his opinion. Both bits of information didn't set well in Connie's stomach. "Uh..." He looked around the room for clues about what they were debating, but he found none.  
"...See me after class." He said after a while of uncomfortable silence, and Connie flushed, nodding solemnly. He turned to direct the class, and Connie tried to pay attention the rest of it, which was actually quite demanding of someone who couldn't care less.  
When class did end, and the bell rang, Connie slowly and hesitantly packed his bag, glancing over at Mr. Rivaille. He was cleaning the whiteboard, his back to Connie.  
Gulping, he attempted to start the conversation which was inevitable. "Sir?" He squeaked.  
Mr. Rivaille was silent for a moment, then placed the eraser on the small sill on the bottom of the board. "Could you please tell me why you continue to fail at concealing your lack of interest in my class, Mr. Springer?"  
Connie flinched at his sharp tongue. "Well, sir, um..." he stuttered. "I'm just..."  
Mr. Rivaille turned, and Connie almost shivered at his expressionless face. This man was scary.  
He smirked slightly. "I'm not going to eat you or anything, calm down. Jesus." Connie found it hard to relax. Mr. Rivaille walked to the desk and hopped onto the surface, crossing his ankles. "Mr. Springer," he said. "Is there something in particular bothering you? I'm aware you have the tendency to flaunt your ignorance during class, but it's getting a little more...evident."  
Connie was stuck between wanting to feel touched by his concerns and insulted at his remark. "It's nothing, sir."  
"Oh, really? In that case, I won't hesitate to write a referral in the future."  
Connie backpedaled. "Wait! Actually..." he slowly picked at a loose string on the sleeve of his shirt, not wanting to look him in the eye. "It is something, but..."  
"Then by all means, tell me what is more important than paying attention to my lecture."  
Connie gulped. "There's this girl, and..."  
Mr. Rivaille held up a hand after that. "Alright, I know where this is going. Hormones, prom, all that disgusting jazz." He slid from the desk top.  
"Sir, I'm sorry for daydreaming in class. It won't happen again, I swear."  
"I should hope so." Mr. Rivaille answered, pacing back around the desk to his laptop.  
"...Am I free to go now, sir?"  
He sat in his chair, and Connie would've laughed if he hadn't been so concerned with being slaughtered then and there by his debate teacher. The chair practically swallowed his small frame. "Yes, Mr. Springer. You may leave." Connie nodded his head slightly, walking past Mr. Rivaille's desk to the door.  
A deep voice stopped him as he was turning the handle. "I can't advise you on what kind of choice to make. No matter what kind of wisdom dictates you the option to pick, no one will be able to tell if it's right or wrong until you arrive to some sort of outcome from your choice."  
Connie paused for a while. Should he reply? Should he go? He decided after a while it was pointless to stand there doing nothing, so he turned his head slightly, nodding at the short man who sat at his desk, reading a very thick book which looked older than he was. How old was Mr. Rivaille anyway? Connie nodded curtly, and Mr. Rivaille somehow caught his gesture from the corner of his eye, and gave him a nod of his own. Connie took his leave.


	8. Finality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> no connie doesn't ask sasha in this one.  
> Yes you get connie and jean/connie and sasha interaction. I kinda want to include more eren in the next one?? Whatever sorry for the lateness of the chapter  
> HEY I ADDED MORE TO THIS CHAPTER (i do that a lot) so please read the next bit i added, i felt this chapter was too short so i meshed chapter nine and this one together.

Connie would've liked to think more about Mr. Rivaille's advice, and how he wasn't as bitter or scary as he thought, but he was preoccupied with trying to find a way to ask Sasha to prom without seeming pathetic for waiting until the last minute.  
The only time he could ask her in person would be tomorrow. Connie didn't want to ask her through a text, or even a call, because he read somewhere that girls didn't like that kind of thing. So all he could do, really, was ask her tomorrow before the end of school, then go and get tickets. That was if she said yes. If she said no, or somebody he hadn't known about had asked her before he had the chance, then he'd probably either 1) die of embarrassment, or 2) die of rejection. Neither option appealed to Connie too much, so he was going with the first plan: ask Sasha, who would say yes, then go to get tickets before school ended. They had to get them as a couple, since their school wouldn't allow anyone else not going with a significant other to go.  
That particular piece of information made him worry about Jean and Marco. He was pretty sure the school wouldn't let them buy tickets together, so he wondered what they'd do. He made a mental note to ask Ymir what she and Christa were doing about that problem when he got home.  
Connie almost got his jacket hem caught in the truck door again, but was able to quickly yank it from danger before the door slammed shut. He really needed to pay more attention to that.  
"I'm home," he called, stepping into the hallway.  
"Welcome home," replied the same indifferent voice that answered him every day.  
Connie hung up his jacket and followed the voice into the kitchen. "Whatcha doing?"  
Ymir briefly looked up at him, then focused her attention back on the paints in her hand. "Mixing paint." Laid before her were small glass bottles, paint brushes, and an artist's palette. Her old smock was wrapped around her waist, and her hands were stained with different shades of blue.  
"Oh," Connie said, not really understanding why she was mixing paint when she had a bunch already. "For something specific, or...?"  
Ymir tilted her head towards the living room. Connie looked where she gestured, seeing Ymir's easel stationed in the middle, where it normally was. Newspaper covered the ground beneath it, but it was spotless, usually. On the easel rested a large portrait of a blonde girl. It was extremely realistic, and she had a gentle smile on her painted lips. Connie raised his eyebrows at the unfinished eyes. "Christa?"  
"I paint her a lot." Ymir replied shortly. Connie just shrugged.  
"It's really good, Ymir."  
She shrugged back, making Connie grin. She was always so modest. Then he remembered. "Oh, I have a question about Christa."  
Ymir hummed a response, screwing the lid on one of the grey paint bottles.  
"Are you taking her to prom?"  
"Yeah, why?"  
Connie blinked. "How, though?" Ymir turned to look at him. "I mean, the school only lets you buy tickets in couples."  
"Obviously, I'm going with someone else, but that doesn't mean I'm hanging with them all night."  
He dumbly made a noise of realization. "Who're you technically going with?"  
"Marco. But I don't know if he knows that yet- Jean's taking his sweet time in asking him."  
"So, wait, you know Jean's..."  
"Gay?" She looked at him pointedly. "Um, yeah. Who doesn't, honestly."  
He looked away, feeling stupid. "You guys already have it all planned out, huh?"  
Ymir sounded a little impatient. "Jean told me he wanted to ask Marco about a week ago, and that solved the problem with Christa pretty easy." She smeared a little green into a light blue smudge onto her wooden palette. "Jean's taking Christa. There's no way Marco's gonna say no, that boy's as gay as a french horn."  
"Marco, too?" Connie squeaked.  
"Are you blind or what. Yes, Marco, too." Ymir sighed, clearly through with the conversation.  
"Alright, well, good luck with that. I'm gonna knock out some homework." Ymir only raised her hand in a still wave. Connie nodded, then remembered she couldn't see him. He walked back to his room quickly.

_____________________________

Connie didn't really want to "knock out some homework", and the Xbox in the corner of his room was awfully tempting. Being Connie, he gave in, and turned on the small TV sitting in the corner of his room. While he was waiting for it to load, he reached into his pocket to pull out his phone. He was a little disappointed when he had no new messages, but shrugged and plugged the charger into it anyway. Back to the game.  
"One round", Connie kept telling himself. Then it turned into "one more round", then "one more, really". He ended up playing five rounds, because halfway through his second round, Jean came online, and Connie hadn't played with him in a while. They played the rest of the round together, as well as the next three rounds. Jean was as much of a show-off as he usually was, and Connie kept making the other teammates laugh. Jean was actually really good at this game.  
After a while, though, Connie realized that he was wasting homework time away, and he needed all the time he could get for calculus.  
"Dude, I have work to do."  
"So do it," came Jean's gruff reply. "You should've finished it first."  
"Well, how much homework do you have left to do, anyway?"  
"Less than you, baldy."  
Connie rolled his eyes as Jean snickered. "Whatever, horse face." He was about to log off before he remembered what Ymir told him. "Oh, hey, question."  
"Shoot."  
"How did the thing with Marco go?"  
Jean almost choked on the other end. It sounded like he was drinking something when Connie had asked. "Um," he started, clearing his throat. "None of your business?"  
"Jean," Connie started, groaning.  
"Oh my- fine! He said yes. He agreed. You happy?"  
Connie could somehow hear the embarrassment in his voice. "Yeah. That's good for you, Jean!"  
"Shut up! Get out of here and do your stupid homework, baldy."  
He chuckled. "Love you too, horse face."  
"Shut up!"  
Connie was laughing really hard, but he managed to log out somehow.

_____________________________

Incoherent mumbling was all Connie could manage before six in the morning. That went for a lot of guys his age, so he didn't feel too bad about it.  
He started his morning by analyzing his surroundings. His cheek was pressed against what felt like paper, and he was sitting at his desk. Stretching, he looked down. He'd fallen asleep doing calculus, how perfect. His stereo was playing one of his favorite songs softly next to his bed. He yawned and picked up his homework, hoping he at least finished it before finally passing out. No such luck. Ten more problems lay there, unanswered. He groaned, resting his forehead on his open textbook.  
"There's a story at the bottom of this bottle and I'm the pen..."  
Deciding he had to get up sooner or later, Connie slowly rose from his chair, cracking his back. There weren't any blankets to hinder his movements this morning, so he made it to the bathroom rather easily. He grabbed his phone on the way, rubbing his eyes. 

[](http://s1040.photobucket.com/user/TreeKangaroo411/media/sashaone.jpg.html)

[](http://s1040.photobucket.com/user/TreeKangaroo411/media/sashatwo.jpg.html)

Since she was online, it didn't take long for her to reply. 

[](http://s1040.photobucket.com/user/TreeKangaroo411/media/sashathree.jpg.html)

He chuckled a little and put down the phone, brushing his face. The towel he dried with was soft and smelled nice, and he wondered if Ymir had done the laundry recently because he sure didn't. He dried his hands and picked up the phone just as it rang with another message. 

[](http://s1040.photobucket.com/user/TreeKangaroo411/media/sashafour.jpg.html)

Connie jumped at the chance, then mentally laughed later because he realized that meant she didn’t complete her own, either.

[](http://s1040.photobucket.com/user/TreeKangaroo411/media/sashafive.jpg.html)

[](http://s1040.photobucket.com/user/TreeKangaroo411/media/sashasix.jpg.html)

[](http://s1040.photobucket.com/user/TreeKangaroo411/media/sashaseven.jpg.html)

[](http://s1040.photobucket.com/user/TreeKangaroo411/media/sashaeight.jpg.html)

Connie set the phone back on the side table as he unzipped his pants, sitting on his bed to get them off. He tried to throw them into the hamper, but he missed. Basketball wasn't ever really his strong suit. He dug through his dresser for a little bit before finding his favorite pair of jeans, the ones with the cool-looking holes in them.  
He didn't buy them like that, but he'd had them for a couple of years. Connie hadn't grown much since ninth grade. He tugged off his shirt and pulled on another one- one that he'd also had for a while. After shoving his sneakers on and grabbing his bag, he was good to go. He didn't worry about his hair- one of the upsides to a buzz cut. 

_____________________________

Connie wasn't sure if he should ring the doorbell or not. It was pretty early, after all. He settled for just a quick knock, because he figured Sasha would be waiting for him anyway.  
"Come in!" Called Sasha from inside. He stepped inside, a little confused. He heard the hum of the microwave as he closed the door behind him, and the smell of cheese wafted through the house. He turned into the kitchen on his right.  
"Where's your dad?" He asked, taking a seat at the island in the center of the kitchen. Sasha sat down across from him, waiting for whatever was in the microwave to finish.  
"He went for a business trip yesterday," she said. "He won't be back until Saturday."  
"Oh," Connie replied, resting his chin in his hand. "What're you heating up?"  
"Hot pockets!" She answered enthusiastically, just as the microwave gave a ding. She jumped up and pushed the button, releasing an even stronger smell of cheese throughout the kitchen. She reached in to grab the plate, and Connie yelled at her.  
"Sasha, that's too hot, don't-" But of course, it was too late. She sucked in air through her teeth and almost dropped the plate, but she was able to land it safely back inside the microwave. "Are you okay?" He asked frantically, hopping up and running to the sink to run cold water. She followed him, wincing when the cool liquid touched the burn. "Holy crap, Sasha..."  
"I'm fine! It's nothing," she said, looking away from him.  
"Let me see it."  
"No, it's fine! I can-"  
"Let me see!" He demanded, worry in his eyes. She pouted, but gave him her hand anyway. He pulled his eyes away from her face and instead focused on the small red area around each of her fingertips. "Wow, you really got it..." He was careful not to touch the soft areas, but gently guided her hand back to the water. "Be careful next time, alright?"  
She only nodded, and if Connie wasn't so worried over her being hurt, he would've noticed her face redden. But he was, and he didn't. "Connie, um..."  
He made a sound of interest, already looking for the first aid kit. The only sound after that was Connie opening and closing cabinets and moving things aside, looking for the small red box, and the water, which continued to run over Sasha's red fingertips.  
He stopped eventually, turning to her to see why she wasn't talking. His eyes met hers, and he felt his face grow hot. "Yeah?" He stuttered, pausing in his efforts of searching.  
Sasha gulped. The hot pocket was momentarily forgotten in the microwave. "Uh," she said, just to have something to say. What was he here for again?  
They were both surprised when the microwave beeped again, and they jumped, the small door left ajar. Sasha sputtered out, "Homework!" And giggled nervously as she shut the microwave door with her free hand. "We have calculus to do, that's right. Homework, yeah."  
Connie was a little disappointed, but nodded in agreement hastily anyway. "Yeah! Yeah, homework. Calculus. Yeah."  
His fingers brushed against the red box in the cabinet, and he pulled it down. "Let's bandage that hand first."  
Sasha laughed. "Yeah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chAPTER NINE IS WHEN CONNIE ASKS SASHA FINALLY so bookmark this so you get the update in time.


	9. Beached

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm trash. More filler. im so sorry i wanted to squeeze Eren in  
> PLEASE DEAL WITH THIS FILLER UNTIL I CAN PLAN OUT THE NEXT CHAPTER

Three hot pockets and ten calculus problems later, Connie and Sasha lay down side by side in the middle of Sasha's rug, trying to see which of them could burp louder.  
"Do we even have to go to school today?" Sasha complained, right after a particularly loud belch.  
Connie followed up with a belch of his own. "I dunno, won't your dad be mad if you play hookie?"  
Sasha tried to burp, but all that she managed was a soft exhale of air. "You win," she admitted, and rocked her legs in the air, sitting up. Connie did the same as Sasha looked at the clock on her dresser. "We should probably get going." She turned to Connie. "Want a ride?"  
"I have to work tonight, I can't."  
"Oh," she said. She pushed herself up from the floor and held out a hand for Connie. He knew he didn't need it, but he took it anyway, lifting himself from the rug. "Well, I'll get my keys and meet you at school, then."  
Connie nodded, gathering his stuff from the table that had been pushed aside to make room for them on the floor. "Thanks for helping me with the calculus."  
She laughed. "I hope you're being sarcastic."  
"I'm not!" He replied earnestly, lifting his bag onto his shoulder. "You're really smart, Sasha."  
This time the blush creeping onto his friend's face didn't go unnoticed. "Thanks," she muttered, a small smile creeping onto her lips. Connie blushed, too.  
"Um, well," he started, then coughed into his fist. "I should..."  
"Yeah! Yes. We should both go. Yeah." She immediately turned, but Connie didn't notice how jerky her steps were or how she was trying desperately to cover her reddened face.  
He cleared his throat again as he stepped out onto the stoop. "Later," he said, walking down her driveway around to his yard, where his blue beauty awaited him.  
"Yeah," she answered, waving after him as he threw his backpack into his truck. He jumped in after it, slamming the door, and she continued to wave after him as he pulled out of the driveway.

________________________

"You blew it, you blew it, you blew it!" Connie yelled to himself on the way to school, banging on the steering wheel. "You blew it so bad! It's out of the water, writhing on the shore! You didn't just blow it, you beached it!" He continued to list off a string of foul words, then banged the steering wheel again.  
He was so close. Sasha was right there, the atmosphere was comfortable, and she seemed willing enough. So, then, why? Why couldn't he bring himself to ask his long-time friend and undeniable crush to one stupid prom?   
"Fuck!" He said one last time, exasperated as he pulled into the school parking lot. He proceeded to take a deep breath, calming himself. Connie exited the vehicle, but he wasn't paying attention to his jacket due to his frustration, and it ultimately got stuck in the truck door again. "Are you shitting me!?" He screamed, scaring a few freshmen on their way to class. He threw them the dirtiest glare he could muster and focused on trying to free himself while still trying to retain any dignity he had to begin with.  
He barely noticed footsteps behind him, and he snarled when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "What?" He snapped, but blinked when he realized it was only Eren. "Oh," he said, clearing his throat. No good to pretend everything was alright now- Eren could usually tell when someone was lying, despite his ignorant exterior. "What do you want?"  
Eren ran a hand through his messy hair, and Connie noticed Mikasa standing behind him, gazing away and looking rather bored. Then again, she always looked bored. "Man, what's up with you?" Eren asked, tilting his head.  
"What do you mean?" Connie replied briskly.  
Eren gestured to the truck door. "Well, I mean," he started, returning his hand to his pocket. He dipped his thumb into the edge and let the rest of his hand hang outside. "You want help with that?"  
"No, I'm fine," Connie said, and narrowed his eyes as he tugged on the jacket.  
Eren began to say something, but was interrupted when Connie's jacket sprung loose from the death grip of the door, and sent him flying into Eren.  
Mikasa, who caught Eren, who caught Connie, immediately asked if Eren was alright. "I'm fine, Mikasa," he said in an irritated tone, and he helped Connie up as Mikasa let go of Eren's torso. "Seriously, dude. What's up?"  
Connie brushed himself off, trying to refrain from seeming as pitiful as he felt. "Nothing."  
Eren looked at him skeptically. "I know it's not nothing. Come on."  
Connie sighed. "Just. Girls, man."  
Eren immediately gave a look of understanding and placed a hand on Connie's shoulder comfortingly. "I get it, bro. I totally get it." He patted his shoulder lightly before removing it. "You don't want to talk about it, do you?"  
"One word." Connie said, looking Eren dead in his green eyes with his own hazel ones. "Prom."  
This word brought forth a loud groan from Eren that sounded like a mix between "oh my God" and "I know right". Mikasa still stood protectively behind him.   
"If you need any advice-"  
"Why would I ask advice from you?"  
"Well, I'm pretty good with the ladies-" Connie cut him off again with an obnoxious snort of a laugh and Eren's face reddened. "Shut up, like you have any experience!"  
Mikasa spoke, startling Connie. "Eren, the bell is about to ring. We should go."  
"Wait, Mikasa! You're a girl, right?" Eren asked, and Mikasa stared at him blankly before he continued. "Maybe you can help Connie here?"  
She slowly glanced at Connie then back at Eren. "That was never my intention from the beginning, and nor do I plan on doing so."   
"Cold!" Eren turned back to Connie as Mikasa began tugging his sleeve. "Sorry, Connie, maybe some other time?"  
Connie just waved after him, vaguely comparing Mikasa's adverse nature to someone else he knew. Someone short with an undercut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im also heavily invested with Attack on Acting, my other fic  
> Currently that's getting more attention than this fic, so i may focus more on that, but i promise i will finish this fic. UNTIL THEN, ENJOY


	10. Awaited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONNIE ASKS SASHA  
> i guess you could say he SPRUNG the question  
> Hah get it bc springles.

Connie never really was a big fan of the whole "Jack Frost nipping at your nose" thing, and he sat in his biology class freezing his butt off, remembering that little fact.   
Ms. Zoë always kept the room cold- so cold that Connie and some of the other students brought jackets specifically to shield their shivering bodies from the ridiculous chill factor of a room that should be room temperature. All Connie knew was if the temperature in this room was ever considered the norm for "room temperature", he'd probably die. That's before he died of either embarrassment or rejection. Death by Sasha.  
He remembered one time when a student- he couldn't remember who, though he thought it was Annie- challenged her on the subject.  
"Why do you keep it so cold in here, anyway?" Annie muttered as Ms. Zoë (who insisted everyone call her Hanji) almost went off on another tangent about homeostasis.  
"Good question, good question!" Enthused Hanji, and she strode over to Annie, leaning on her desk. Annie stared at her, but Connie noticed she recoiled away from her slightly. "You see, I'm doing a study on adaption to an environmental factor that is necessary for life- optimum temperature level!"  
After she said that, Connie's brain gave him the "OK" to wander off into his own thoughts, since Hanji didn't pay attention to her own students as much as she did on her own speech.  
So there he sat, at his desk in the very back of the room, doing that same thing. He beat himself up over Sasha again, then thought more about Mr. Rivaille's advice.  
Mr. Rivaille wasn't actually that bad. Maybe that's why Eren liked him so much. Eren had always had the highest scores in that class, and Connie wondered what Eren could accomplish if Jean wasn't always picking fights, and vice versa. Eren wasn't actually as dumb as some people thought, and the same went for Connie. Well, mostly, anyway.  
"And that's the theory of relativity!" Finished Hanji, gesturing grandly. Connie winced as he noticed that Hanji had a tendency to say everything loudly. "Any questions?"  
As usual, nobody raised any hands. Connie knew mostly everyone would just do the packets she assigned weekly and get their information from that rather than actually listen to Hanji talk.  
Thankfully, the bell rang just then, and Connie's mood brightened almost instantaneously, only to be suffocated by a feeling of dread. Now was his only chance to ask Sasha to prom. And he'd absolutely have to do it now, otherwise he'd forget or wait until the very last second- and then it wouldn't even matter, because tickets would be long gone, whisked away by excited couples and, among other things, everything Connie hoped to be but wasn't in the least. That being someone who actually had a date and wasn't the lonely idiot people often saw him as.

_______________________________

The lunchroom was just as hectic as ever. Connie decided he'd rather just not eat than get mauled over something stupid like lunch, so he took a seat outside, at Jean's usual table. Or it seemed like his usual table- Connie just saw him sit there an awful lot. But Jean wasn't there.  
Armin was, however. His blonde bowl cut clearly stood out among the black and brown heads of Mikasa and Eren, who he always sat with. Connie called out to him and smiled as he saw Armin tell his friends he'd be right back. He walked over.  
"Hey, Connie! What's up?" He asked, smiling that nice, charismatic smile he reserved for friends. Connie found himself wondering why Armin wasn't more popular. Armin was smarter and nicer than Jean, and he had good enough fashion taste- today he wore a houndstooth sweater over a white button-up. And, sure, Armin had his little circle of friends (Connie could name Eren and Mikasa from the start, but the more he thought, the more people he figured were probably close with Armin), but he honestly deserved more than what people garnered him with, the title of "book worm". Because even though Armin was, in fact, a book worm, he had many more qualities that should've made people see him as a knight of sorts.  
"Oh, nothing." Connie replied. "I just wanted to see how you're doing."  
Armin sat down. "I'm alright, I guess. Finished a good book yesterday."  
Book worm was starting to sound like a more accurate description of Armin. "That's cool." Connie rubbed his head, looking for a conversation in the space above Armin's right shoulder. "Do you know where Jean is?"  
"I think he and Christa are getting tickets." Armin chuckled slightly. "And Marco's getting his with Ymir right now, too."  
Connie smiled. "It's great that they found a way to go together."  
"They're a good couple- it really is great." Armin agreed, a sparkle in his eyes. Connie had never seen Armin so adamant about something. "Did things with Sasha work out, then?"  
Connie almost choked on his spit. Something about hearing someone else say her name set his heart on edge. "Uh, not exac- Well, I mean, it's not like she said no, but..."  
"You didn't ask her yet."  
Connie sagged. "No."  
Armin sighed heavily, but brightened when he glanced over Connie's shoulder. "Here's your chance, Connie." He laughed at the end, and Connie turned to see what he was looking at.  
It was none other than Sasha herself, carrying her lunch tray while trying to text with one hand. She was crossing the grassy break between the patio's cement flooring and the lunch room's tiled steps. As Connie watched, he felt an absence of weight on the other side of the table, and he turned to see Armin had already gone to sit beside Eren and Mikasa again. Sighing, he got up, knowing that Sasha wouldn't see him if he waved.  
"Sasha," he said, nearing her. She looked up, almost tripping on nothing out of surprise.  
After she saw it was Connie, she grinned brightly. "Connie!" She handed him the tray and took the phone into two hands, rattling off a text and slipping it into her back pocket. "I got that biology test back today- I got an eighty-eight! Isn't that great?"  
Connie returned her grin as she took her tray back from him and they walked back to his table. "Yeah, that's really cool! But you know what else is great?"  
She sat across from him, setting her tray between the two of them. "French fry Fridays?"  
Connie laughed. "No, even though that's pretty great." He cleared his throat nervously. "No. Jean and Marco are going to prom together."  
Sasha's eyes widened. "Shut up! Seriously?"  
Was she mad? "Yeah," he replied, nervous to see her reaction.  
She smiled. "I knew it! Oh my God, I called it, I totally called it. I knew he was gay."  
Connie stared. "You knew?"  
"Yeah! Everyone else said he was only European, but I totally knew he was gay from the start. Talk about homo."  
"So, wait! The rumor...?"  
Sasha tilted her head. "...Was a rumor. What'd you expect?"  
Connie blushed, looking away. "Well, nothing, really, but, um..." Sasha gave a sound of interest as she shoved french fries into her mouth, and Connie took it as a signal to continue. "The reason I brought that up is because I wanted to ask something."  
"And what's that?" Sasha stopped eating for a little bit, gently brushing away crumbs around her lips.  
"Uh, actually..." he cleared his throat again, trying to retain some of the confidence he'd had earlier. "It's alright if you say you don't want to, but..." Sasha raised an eyebrow, and Connie just decided it'd be easier to spit it out than make it any more painful than it had to be.

"Would you consider going to prom with me?"


	11. Questioned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where will it go from here, guys  
> it is a mystery  
> (No but I'm literally writing this as I go) so uh this was meant to be included in the last chapter but that would've made it too long so SORRY IF THIS IS SHORT

The question seemed to echo throughout the patio, but Connie knew that was impossible because everyone else was talking so loudly, it was a miracle Sasha heard the question at all- and that's besides the fact that Connie halfway squeaked it out of nervousness.  
He'd done it. He'd asked Sasha to prom. Connie's whole life seemed to rotate around her one answer, as desperate as that sounded. While he knew it was just a stupid high school prom, he couldn't deny that it was important to his potential relationship with Sasha. He was thankful for prom because it gave him an excuse to be with Sasha romantically in a way, but was also rueful because it almost always ensured embarrassment for those that didn't have a date.  
Sasha's eyes widened slightly and she quickly swiped at the rest of the crumbs around her mouth and chin. "Uh," she responded, her face reddening. Connie could feel his face doing the same. "Wow, um..."  
This was it. She was going to reject him. He knew it just by those words. He braced himself as she opened her mouth again.  
A lot of things happened at once. Sasha said, "Of course!" At the same time Connie muttered his apologies for springing the question so suddenly, and both of them giggled nervously.  
"Wait, what?" Connie asked, looking at her hopefully.  
"Um, I said yes? I said of course I'd go with you. Who else would I want to go with?" In that moment, it seemed like Connie was floating away. His entire being was soaring high above the confines of Earth- he'd achieved the seemingly impossible. "You're my best friend, after all!"  
At those words, Connie's soul left his body for dead, plummeting further into confusion and depression. She thought they were going as friends. "Yeah," he replied, forcing a smile. "Thanks!"  
Sasha nodded and then made a small noise, like she remembered something. "I forgot, I brought this for you," she said, reaching inside her leather bag. Connie raised his eyebrows as she brought out three small oranges. "My orange tree finally produced ripe oranges yesterday, and I know you like them, so I brought some."  
Connie took the oranges from her hands. "Thanks," he said, trying to be enthusiastic. "That was really cool of you."  
Sasha just smiled at him before eating more of her french fries, prattling on about her day so far.  
Connie peeled off the skin of one of the oranges, watching Sasha talk but not hearing the words she spoke. The skin of the orange was thick. If only Connie's skin was the same.  
"Oh, we should get our tickets before school ends," he heard Sasha say, and he looked up, not realizing he'd been focusing on the orange.  
"I was gonna say that," Connie agreed, finally popping a piece of orange in his mouth.  
Sasha nodded, and Connie noticed that her tray was now empty. How long had they been sitting there? "Meet me outside Ms. Ral's room?"  
Ms. Ral was the English teacher, and Sasha's last period of the day. She was always really nice, and most of the male students had crushes on her because she was also very pretty. "Yeah," Connie replied, smiling.  
Sasha opened her mouth to say something else, but the lunch bell rang, dismissing them. "Great, see you later!" She said, then shouldered her bag, waving at him. He waved back, grabbing his own bag. He watched her walk away as he slipped the remaining oranges into his backpack, then he left.  
He was going to prom with Sasha, and that was a miracle in itself, right? But miracles could never possibly work right on Connie, and instead, Sasha thought Connie was just asking her as a friend, when Connie honestly wanted to be a lot more.


	12. Achievements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I seriously have no idea where I'm going with this anymore. borderline crackfiction

Seventh period passed without an incident on Connie's part. He managed to pay attention enough that he was able to impress Mr. Rivaille, which was not an easy task, but seeing as how Connie was usually daydreaming in class, his behavior was considered a step up. Looking back, Connie figured he was trying to guide his mind away from thinking about Sasha by focusing on the lesson for once.  
Besides that, though, everything was pretty much the same as it was every day. Jean wasn't fighting with Eren, today, though. He'd tried that fifth period and got told off by Mr. Schultz, the history teacher on the left wing, who was really nice. Mr. Schultz was usually pretty cool about students who started stuff, but Connie guessed his patience ran out when two students were practically beating each other into the ground in the middle of the lecture. Mr. Schultz had informed Jean that if he received a referral before prom, he wouldn't be able to go. Jean straightened up after that.  
All Connie could do now was wait. Wait and let Mr. Rivaille bore him to death with that same monotone voice that was equal parts chilling and soothing. He had a deep voice that could lull you to sleep or make you so nervous you sweat uncontrollably, as it had made Bertholdt several times. He was usually sweaty anyway, though.  
Connie's gaze wandered over to Eren as Mr. Rivaille's voice faded to a dull drone in the recesses of his mind. His face was always tensed, it seemed, even when he was relaxed. His huge green eyes focused on the teacher attentively, seemingly enraptured. He was always looking at Mr. Rivaille like that, as if he worshipped him or something.  
The bell rang then, and Connie eagerly lifted his bookbag from the floor. He didn't have to pack, he hadn't taken anything out to begin with. He brushed into Jean on the way out, and Connie smiled at him.  
"Hey, horse face. You get your tickets?"  
Jean fell into step with Connie. "Who told you about that, baldy?"  
"A little blonde birdie told me."  
"Hm," he replied, shrugging. He and Armin were friends for the most part, and he couldn't be mad at him. Jean liked him too much. "What about you and potato girl?"  
Connie gave him a look. "That was over a year ago, get over it."  
"Jeez, touchy." Connie pouted as Jean continued. "So what about it?"  
"I'm meeting her now," he said, then slowly slipped away to the left, seeing his destination was near. "See ya."  
Jean just nodded with that ever-scowling face and walked through the double doors at the front of the school.  
Connie took a deep breath, turning the corner into the English wing. He'd been depressed about how things had turned out earlier, yeah, but Connie was generally an optimistic person, so he looked on the bright side. He was going with Sasha, wasn't he? No point in being disappointed in a miracle like that, right? He shook his head, realizing it did no good to ask himself questions like that if he was just going to doubt himself.  
He smiled as he spotted his friend's familiar face at Ms. Ral's door. "Sasha," he said, and he grinned as Sasha mimicked his smile. "You ready to go? This probably won't take long."  
"Yep!" She assured him, on they were on their way to the office, where they sold the tickets.  
They chatted a little on the way there to make the eerie silence in the hallways ness noticeable. School after hours always felt particularly somber. "I still have to get my dress- I feel so dumb for waiting this long," she admitted.  
"Don't feel bad, blame me. I waited until today to ask you, I'm the dumb one."  
Sasha laughed and her nose crinkled. "Maybe I will."  
Connie opened the door leading to the office for Sasha at the same time a broad-shouldered man came out of the door next to them. He smiled at them, and Connie started to sweat unconsciously.   
"Good afternoon," the man said.   
Connie bowed his head and Sasha smiled, saving him from having to say anything. "Hey, Mr. Smith."  
"Prom tickets?" Mr. Smith asked, raising his eyebrows. He was still smiling.  
Connie attempted to choke out an answer so he wouldn't appear completely stupid for a change. "Yes, sir," he stuttered.  
Mr. Smith was the school principal. He was incredibly handsome and awfully intimidating, even though he was as nice as Mr. Schultz. Maybe Connie felt intimidated because he was so much shorter than he was. "Have a nice evening," Mr. Smith said, and he waved politely before walking away.  
Connie let out a breath, letting the office door close behind him. Sasha didn't notice, and instead walked to the desk where a youngish-looking woman was working. Her glasses were perched upon her skinny nose, and she typed quicker than Connie's eyes could follow her fingers.   
Sasha gently leaned against the desk. "Hello!"  
The young woman looked up, surprised, as if she hadn't noticed them. "Hello?" She said, then blinked. "What can I help you with?"  
Sasha smiled. "We'd like tickets to the prom tomorrow, please?"  
The young woman hummed a response of understanding, and Connie took the time to read her desk plate as she rummaged through a drawer. "Ms. Brzenska", it said.  
The woman pulled out a large folder and laid it on her desk, opening it. Pink tickets and papers filled it, and she removed two of the tickets and a half-filled survey sheet of some sort. "Name." It was a statement but said in such a way that it required an answer.  
"Sasha Braus and-"  
"Connie Springer." He finished, stepping forward. "I've got the money to pay here."  
The woman nodded gently and took the bills between two fingers and quickly replaced his empty hand with two small, pink tickets. "Please keep the tickets in a safe place, as we are not responsible for any re-funds if a student loses theirs."  
Sasha made a sound of confirmation and Connie gave her both of the tickets, knowing full well it was more likely that he would lose them in exactly .3 seconds. At least Sasha's backpack wasn't a swirling mass of unnamed, wrinkled papers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that ending wasn't sudden.


	13. Fleeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connie thinks about Sasha for the billionth time

Connie pulled into his driveway walking on air, and he didn't even get mad when his jacket got caught in the door again. He had gotten tickets to go to the prom with Sasha, finally. He knew Sasha thought of him as only a friend, but he was determined to give their potential relationship one last try before he called it quits and moved on. He really, really liked Sasha, but that didn't mean she liked him.   
The keys jingled as he unlocked the front door. "I'm home," he said, closing the door. He looked around at the lights, which were off. He was home, but nobody else was. Ymir's car wasn't in the driveway, either, now that he thought about it. He walked into the kitchen and found a note stuck to the toaster. He plucked it off and began to read.  
"Dear Baldy," Connie scoffed. "I had to take care of some work down at the gallery. Be back around nine tonight, or nine tomorrow morning. Depends." Connie rolled his eyes, already knowing what it depended on. Christa, as usual. "Love, your charming and awesome roommate." He looked at the bottom of the note and saw she had drawn something. It was a little Ymir. Just the head, though. "P.S.," the speech bubble coming from her mouth said. "There's two subway sandwiches in the fridge- DON'T EAT MINE!" The last part was underlined and capitalized.   
Shrugging, Connie crumpled the note and tossed it into the trash like a basketball. But, again, Connie was never really good at basketball, and it bounced away from the trashcan on the tile floor, back to Connie's feet. He scooped it up and tried again several more times, and finally made it on the fifth try. He was too happy about Sasha to be frustrated, though.   
He strode over to the fridge, opened it, and took out the sub labeled "Baldy" with a dumb heart. He munched it on the way to his room.

______________________

Work at the café went smoothly, mostly. Connie didn't drop any plates like he did usually, and nobody else made fun of him for almost spilling coffee on himself. So that was good.  
He had actually been considering getting a different job recently, at a new shop that opened nearer to where he lived. But he'd been too busy with school to check it out.  
As he drove home, he remembered that Sasha said she was buying a dress for the prom today. He felt guilty that he didn't ask if he should gone with her, but realized it was late in the evening now and he couldn't have gone with her. Interested in what she bought anyway, he decided to call her.  
She picked up on the fourth ring. "Hey!"  
"Hi," he said, setting the cell on speaker. He laid it down on the dashboard. "Just kinda curious about what kinda dress you got."  
"Oh," she said. There was a shifting noise. "Well, shouldn't you see for yourself tomorrow?"  
"I guess that's alright. I just didn't know if you wanted our stuff to match."  
"That's stupid, of course not."  
"Thought so."  
"So hey, are you coming over to pick me up tomorrow night or what?"  
"Yeah, sounds good." He turned the corner into his neighborhood. "Are you home right now?"  
"Yeah, been home for about an hour. Wanna come over?"  
"Mostly for homework, because calculus sucks, but yeah."  
Sasha giggled in agreement. "Alright, see you in a minute or two."  
"Yeah. Bye, Sash."  
They both hung up and Connie took a deep breath. It had to be tonight- he wouldn't get another chance with her alone before the prom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M VERY SORRY THIS CHAPTER IS SO SHORT


	14. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LOOK AT THE TITLE OF THE CHAPTER.  
> now strap in and get ready for a feel ride

Everything was difficult when Sasha was involved. Breathing. Thinking. Jenga.  
But Connie knew he would never get tired of everything being difficult because Sasha was always around to help him through. Or make it more difficult, but Connie didn't care either way as long as she was there. He had grown accustomed to hearing her loud laugh whenever he told a stupid joke or a bad pun, and how she would sometimes come back with her own joke. It was usually equally as bad, and most of the time they fell all over themselves laughing.  
He hoisted his backpack up from the passenger seat and shut the door. He was nervous, and that was an understatement. What if she rejected him? Would she still go to prom with him? When would he stop asking himself questions he didn't know the answers to?  
Ymir's jeep was in the driveway ahead of him. It was a deep purple, and as far as he could tell, she took good care of it, despite being 60-or-so years old. He walked past it towards the door, jingling the keys in his hand as he opened the lock.  
"Hey," he said, his voice echoing in the front hall. Ymir's grunt answered him from the living room, and he peered around the edge of the wall to see the tall brunette seated at her easel, carefully swirling the blue color in the painted Christa's eyes. "How did the gallery go?"  
Ymir glanced up momentarily, then continued to paint as she replied. "Alright. I got a high offer on one of my pieces."  
"That's great," Connie said. "Which one?"  
Ymir leaned away from her work, eyeing it. "The one of Mikasa."  
Connie made a sound of understanding. He had always really liked that painting, the red scarf contrasted with the blue sky in the background well. Ymir loved to draw people, and she might as well draw people she saw every day. Connie glanced at the camera on the table at Ymir's side. It was on its side, the SD card plugged into her laptop next to it. The picture of Christa she had snapped was shown in full-screen, and Ymir glanced at it every minute or so to compare the painting. He guessed she did that with anyone else she drew, too, since she carried that camera around with her literally everywhere. She must've been breaking some sort of rule at school taking so many pictures of everyone, but Ymir was so hard-edged he doubted anyone would say anything to her. "That's great," he finally answered. "I'm happy for you." She grunted in reply, and Connie stepped back into the hall, headed for his room. "I'm changing then stopping over at Sasha's, I'll be back before dinner." Ymir grunted yet again, and Connie chuckled lightly before closing the door to his room.

_____________________________

His feet crunched in the fallen leaves on top of Sasha's lawn. He remembered that he should probably rake his own lawn, and maybe while he was at it, rake her lawn, too. Looking up, he realized the car that belonged to Mr. Braus wasn't in the driveway. He vaguely recalled Sasha telling him something about him being on a business trip. When was he supposed to get back, again? He stepped onto the stoop and rung the doorbell.  
He was greeted by a smiling Sasha. "Connie!"  
"You act like you're surprised to see me," Connie chuckled. "You invited me, you know."  
"I know, I know! Come on in," Sasha said, moving back inside.  
He shut the door behind him upon entering. "So calculus," he called, moving his backpack from his shoulder. It was heavy.  
Sasha groaned. "Ugh, yeah. My room, you know where it is. I'll be right there."  
"Okay." He walked down the hall to Sasha's room and opened the wooden door that said "World Peas" with a picture of little peas encircling the globe. She'd had that since she was about 12. Connie remembered because he had made it for her at the same age.   
The door squeaked a little, and Connie flicked on the lights. Her math book was open on the low-rise table with her already-started homework laid out next to it. He shrugged and took the spot across from it, kneeling.  
"Oi, Connie! You want somethin' to drink?"  
He smiled. She never talked properly like she did at school when she was with him, and he never made fun of her for having such a strong country accent. "Soda or something, whatever you have!"  
"Roger!" She answered, and Connie stretched, looking around.  
Her room hadn't changed since she was little, really. The rug he was sitting on was frayed at the edges from wear, and she still had the same posters up- she had a painting Ymir had done of her hung above her television. Connie absolutely adored that painting. Sasha had received it on her birthday from Connie, because he had commissioned Ymir to paint it. He often wished he had enough courage to commission with her again, to paint one of Sasha for him. But that's be extremely weird, he thought, so he didn't ever ask her.  
Minutes later, Sasha came in holding a tray of two bowls of chips and two glasses, which were mismatched but also filled to the brim with soda. "Hope ya like Pepsi," she said, setting the tray down between them.  
Connie smiled at her as she sat down, then started grinning. "Did you hear about the guy who got hit in the head with a can of Pepsi?"  
Sasha's eyes widened. "No?"  
"He was lucky it was a soft drink."  
Sasha bursted into giggles, and Connie continued to grin like an idiot as she keeled over onto the rug, holding her stomach. When she finally calmed down, she cleared her throat and sat up, still chuckling a little. "Why did the guy at the Pepsi factory get fired?" Connie leaned forward, knowing she was about to deliver a bad joke. "He was tested positive for Coke!"  
They both collapsed onto the rug at that one, and Connie nearly missed hitting the edge of the table, wheezing. "You're such a dork," he managed through fits of laughter. He loved her laugh.  
"You're a bigger dork," she retaliated, trying to sit up.   
Connie followed her, wiping at the tears in his eyes. "Nuh-uh."  
"Uh-huh."  
Connie giggled. "Whatever." He rested his chin on his fist, propping his elbow on the table. The silence that followed their laughter was unwelcome, and Connie found himself being slowly suffocated by it. He knew it was his turn for a joke, but he couldn't think of any more, and he was pestered with the reason for coming over in the first place. There wasn't a point in sitting here any longer if he wasn't going to just spit it out already. "Uh," Connie cleared his throat.  
Sasha looked up, sensing the sudden seriousness in the atmosphere. "What is it?"  
"...Well," he started. He knew he wasn't punctual. He knew he screwed up on a daily basis, and as much as he hated to admit it, he knew he wasn't that smart, either. But he also knew that sitting before him was the girl he'd loved since he was little. The girl who stood by him while he cried and was there to support him when he needed it most. She was his best friend. "Sasha, please just listen." He brought his gaze to her eyes, swallowing his fear and facing her. "You...are the most interesting thing about me. You make everything easy and difficult at the same time, and you're the only person that makes me feel like my heart could beat out of my chest whenever I see you. It sounds stupid," he continued, tensing. "But you're the thing I look forward to every single day because you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I mean it, Sasha! You're great and funny and so...everything. You're everything to me." He tore his eyes away from her face, as he could feel his own heating up. "I like you." He almost whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> iT'S LONGER THIS TIME


	15. Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connie finally admits his true feelings to Sasha and then PROM HAPPENS.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The purpose of this was to fix the lack of Springles fanfiction. Did I succeed?

Connie was getting tired of having his questions bounce off the walls of whatever room he was in. It was embarrassing, and it happened way too often for his liking.  
He could only glace at Sasha, fearing his red face would give his obvious embarrassment and nervousness away. He had a feeling she could already tell, though. She was looking at him like he was some sort of ghost- eyes wide with confusion written all over her face.  
He felt himself swimming. His body wasn't moving, but he felt himself wavering, like his mind was trying to fly him away. "Connie," he heard Sasha say, but she was muffled, somehow. He looked at her and saw blurs of color. Was he crying?  
He fainted.

_________________

Apparently, he wasn't out for too long, because when he woke up, he was still in the same room, on the floor. Sasha was jostling him, saying his name repeatedly in a worried tone. What was he doing here again? He opened his eyes again, not realizing he'd closed them. He blinked as his surroundings started to come into focus and Sasha's southern drawl stopped sounding muffled.  
"Connie, oh gosh. Are you okay? Don't try and sit up! Connie! Oh my gosh. You're alright, aren't you?"  
He was aware of two hands pushing gently on his chest to keep him from moving. His head was cushioned by a pillow that smelled a lot like Sasha. He decided he'd rather just stay there anyway. He looked up at Sasha, her figure now clear. "What happened...?"  
Sasha sighed in relief. "You fainted. You were only unconscious for a couple of minutes, though."  
Connie grunted as he felt a pain shoot up to his head, making his pound. He brought his hand up and rubbed his temple. "Must've hit my head pretty hard. I'm sorry for scaring you."  
Sasha blushed. "You didn't scare me at all! I was just worried..." Connie moved to get up, and Sasha pulled her hands back. His head immediately decided to pound a bit harder, but eventually faded to a dull annoyance as he listened to Sasha speak. "Um, but, were you really that nervous about my answer...?"  
Connie blinked. What had he asked her? Then he suddenly remembered the question and how embarrassed he was. He wanted to slap himself for being such a pussy, but he didn't because his head hurt like hell. He coughed nervously before starting his response. "Well, uh... I mean... I guess?"  
Sasha giggled. "That's cute, Connie."  
He stiffened as he felt his face go red again. "N-no it's not! I'm super manly. The manliest. The manliest man you've ever seen." He grinned stupidly, flexing his arms. He didn't have much muscle, admittedly.  
She laughed. "Too manly to hear my answer?"  
He stopped flexing and felt his eyes widen. "Nobody's ever too manly to listen."  
She smiled at him, her nose crinkling in that way that he loved. "Connie, I like you, too. A lot. I have for a while, and..." She glanced away, whispering. "I'm so glad you feel the same way."  
"Glad that I-" he stopped himself,grabbing her hands. "Sasha, I've liked you for a long time, too!" He felt like an idiot with so much obvious blush on his face.  
She looked at him, wide-eyed. "Really?" She stuttered. "I offered to go to the prom as friends so you wouldn't feel weird about it- I didn't think you felt the same way that I did..."  
He shook his head fervently despite the horrid pounding inside it. "That wasn't it at all!" He started laughing. "Sasha, you know me better than anyone and you couldn't see it?" He grinned at her and pulled back, crossing his legs and cursing his headache. "Actually, I have something else to ask."  
Sasha perked up. "What is it?"  
He chuckled softly, rubbing his head. "Do you have any advil?"  
Sasha jumped up. "Right! Sorry!"  
She left the room quickly, and Connie slowly stood. The surge of pain in his head went away after a few moments, and he followed Sasha into the kitchen. "I'm, uh..." he said, leaning against the door frame. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier."  
She smiled at him as she retrieved the small bottle from the cabinet. "Me, too." She handed it to him, and he took it while she poured a glass of water from the tap. He nodded gratefully and took two of the pills, following them with a gulp of water.  
"So..." Connie began. He wasn't sure where to start this question. A lot of questions had been asked today, but this one was the most difficult. "Does this mean... Uh..." Sasha blinked at him, and he blushed, chuckling nervously. "Does this mean that we're gonna date now? Or, uh..." he stuttered out, his face redder than it had been all day.  
Sasha giggled. "I don't really know how to answer that question any better than you know how to ask it..."  
He looked up into his childhood friend's eyes. "Well, um, then..."  
She walked towards him and immediately embraced him. He was used to getting hugs from her- he did almost every day- but this one felt different, somehow. He gently rested his head against her shoulder and felt her chest rumble as she spoke her next words. "Let's go to prom together." He looked up at her at that.  
"You mean..."  
She blushed and smiled, and so did he. "As a couple."

________________________

The night of the prom was probably one of the best nights of Connie's life. Sasha looked absolutely beautiful, more than usual, and their outfits actually matched. Connie felt sort of ridiculous when he stood next to Sasha for the picture booth, because he felt he completely paled in comparison to her. This time it was Sasha's turn to assure him that he looked just fine.  
Jean and Marco were admittedly one of the cutest couples on the floor, though not very many people would be able to tell it unless they knew they were each other's dates. Jean kept shying away from Marco with a stupid blush on his face, and Marco laughed and chatted with everyone.  
Ymir was much more expressive than Jean, and at one point she actually lifted Christa into the air. Connie smirked as he listened in on others' comments: "They must be really close friends".  
Eren seemed to be hanging around the debate teacher more than the friends he had brought with them. Armin talked with Annie, so Connie figured she was his date. He couldn't figure out who Mikasa took, though he thought it was probably Eren, because who else would want to spend the night with that crazy kid? Mr. Rivaille looked bored whenever he wasn't talking to Eren. He even looked bored when he was talking to him.  
Connie and Sasha had a great time just dancing and eating. Mostly eating, of course, since everything there was for the students. But when the prom ended, Connie and everyone else went to McDonald's because, hey, that's where people go after prom, right?  
Jean, Marco, Christa, and Ymir shared a table with Reiner and Bertholdt, and Mikasa, Eren, Armin, and Annie shared a table with Connie and Sasha.  
"Armin, I thought you weren't coming?" He asked.  
Armin looked up from his plate of fries. "Eren made me change my mind."  
Eren looked over at the mention of his name and playfully laid an arm across his shoulders, squeezing him tightly. "Aren't you glad I made you come?"  
Mikasa looked bored. So did Annie, admittedly. Connie made a french fry joke with Sasha that eventually had the whole table laughing, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Jean snake his hand into Marco's underneath the table next to them.  
Connie smiled for the millionth time that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to everyone who's been reading this story: thank you so much for the support! i hate to end this here but hey, all good things come to an end, yeah? This has been so fun to write!


End file.
